Naomi sighed as she walked up the stairs towards her daughter's rooms, a load of clean laundry under her arm. Finally, a day off of work. The McKaiin case came to an end with no problems (not to mention a pay raise), and she thought that a little time off was more than deserved. The kids were at school, and she had the whole day to relax.
Yeah, right.
A single mother of three never has time to relax.
She scowled as she tramped through Jordan and Sara's shared room. Barbies littered the floor, as did little electronic games and Jordan's various pee-wee sports uniforms.
"If these kids want me to put away their clothes, the least they could do is clear a path to their closet." She muttered, accidentally stepping on a Ken doll. She paused a moment, then stomped on it, grinding the little plastic head into the carpet. "Take that, Dan." She muttered, a wave of devious laughter escaping her lips. She quickly got a hold of herself, then went to her eldest daughter's room, feeling much more content.
Normally, she would have just set the clothes outside the door. Rachel hated having her privacy invaded, no matter what the reason. But today Naomi thought she'd actually put them away. 'Just to do Rachel a favor.' She told herself. 'Not to see what kind of drug sniffing occult she joined.'
But she knew in her heart that she was doing it because she was worried about Rachel. She needed to know why her daughter, once so extroverted and busy, pushed away most of her friends and locked herself in her room most of the time.
Pushing the door open slowly, almost fearfully, she stepped into the room and turned on the light. She sighed with relief. No visible inhalants. No bongs. No liquor bottles. Posters of some rock band hung on the wall, but that was as sinful as things got. A normal, teenage room.
Walking across the carpet, Naomi was almost disappointed that Rachel had no barbies to step on. A toyless carpet meant that the child was growing up.
She set the clothes on the bed, making her way towards the closet, only pausing to brush a russet colored feather off the desk. Slamming open the closet doors, she was greeted by a black spandex leotard, hanging directly in front of the wardrobe.
"Rachel quit gymnastics almost a year ago." She laughed, eyeing the worn outfit. "What does she think she is, Catwoman?"
She moved quickly in putting the laundry away, smirking at the memories that ran through her head, humming a pleased tune, before stopping abruptly. There was a bag of clothing on the ground. Full, from one of the designer shops. Her lips pursed into a frown. If Rachel was going to buy fancy clothes, the least she could do was hang them up.
Opening the bag, she stumbled back, startled. They were men's clothes. Slightly outdated, too. Too small to be a gift for her father. That could only mean...Rachel, her oldest daughter, was...
She sprinted from the room, running into her own and slamming the door. She should have seen it before. Rachel, dating less. Rachel, always in her room, with the door LOCKED! How the hell did this happen?
Naomi always thought she knew her daughters. What was a phase, what was a problem, when they were hiding something. She didn't see this coming. How could she not see this coming?!
Her daughter was no longer an innocent little girl.
She lowered her head into her hands, and wept.
Yeah, right.
A single mother of three never has time to relax.
She scowled as she tramped through Jordan and Sara's shared room. Barbies littered the floor, as did little electronic games and Jordan's various pee-wee sports uniforms.
"If these kids want me to put away their clothes, the least they could do is clear a path to their closet." She muttered, accidentally stepping on a Ken doll. She paused a moment, then stomped on it, grinding the little plastic head into the carpet. "Take that, Dan." She muttered, a wave of devious laughter escaping her lips. She quickly got a hold of herself, then went to her eldest daughter's room, feeling much more content.
Normally, she would have just set the clothes outside the door. Rachel hated having her privacy invaded, no matter what the reason. But today Naomi thought she'd actually put them away. 'Just to do Rachel a favor.' She told herself. 'Not to see what kind of drug sniffing occult she joined.'
But she knew in her heart that she was doing it because she was worried about Rachel. She needed to know why her daughter, once so extroverted and busy, pushed away most of her friends and locked herself in her room most of the time.
Pushing the door open slowly, almost fearfully, she stepped into the room and turned on the light. She sighed with relief. No visible inhalants. No bongs. No liquor bottles. Posters of some rock band hung on the wall, but that was as sinful as things got. A normal, teenage room.
Walking across the carpet, Naomi was almost disappointed that Rachel had no barbies to step on. A toyless carpet meant that the child was growing up.
She set the clothes on the bed, making her way towards the closet, only pausing to brush a russet colored feather off the desk. Slamming open the closet doors, she was greeted by a black spandex leotard, hanging directly in front of the wardrobe.
"Rachel quit gymnastics almost a year ago." She laughed, eyeing the worn outfit. "What does she think she is, Catwoman?"
She moved quickly in putting the laundry away, smirking at the memories that ran through her head, humming a pleased tune, before stopping abruptly. There was a bag of clothing on the ground. Full, from one of the designer shops. Her lips pursed into a frown. If Rachel was going to buy fancy clothes, the least she could do was hang them up.
Opening the bag, she stumbled back, startled. They were men's clothes. Slightly outdated, too. Too small to be a gift for her father. That could only mean...Rachel, her oldest daughter, was...
She sprinted from the room, running into her own and slamming the door. She should have seen it before. Rachel, dating less. Rachel, always in her room, with the door LOCKED! How the hell did this happen?
Naomi always thought she knew her daughters. What was a phase, what was a problem, when they were hiding something. She didn't see this coming. How could she not see this coming?!
Her daughter was no longer an innocent little girl.
She lowered her head into her hands, and wept.
